Ambivilance
by onionstories
Summary: The Chessmaster fell in love with one of his Pawns, a strange feeling, one never before experienced to him. A feeling that he wanted to revel in, one he wanted to feel forever and ever, and never let go of it. Nonetheless, there was power to be obtained, goals to be met, and in order for him to get what he wanted, he needed to hurt his Fordsie. It was the only way.


Bill Cipher was one of those beings who loved adoration.

It made him happy, genuinely happy, albeit for a short while, to be praised. To be adored, and admired. To have someone _look up_ to him, giving him all the praise they could give.

His newest pawn heaped on the adoration, referring to him as his 'blessed Muse,' building shrines, tapestries, _everything._ This pawn's admiration of him was immense, bordering on a full-blown obsession.

And Bill _hated_ it.

He loved his new pawn, his Fordsie, so much, he had to restrain himself from visiting the man's dreams every single night. No, he kept telling himself, _you can't see him EVERY night,_ _you selfish ass,_ _he needs rest!_ The nights he could come and see him, however, were the best and the worst, all rolled into one.

At first, Bill loved the admiration. He'd never loved before, and if he had loved, he never loved as strongly as he did then. Just _seeing_ the man filled him with wondrous feelings, feelings he never felt before, and never wanted to stop feeling. Ford's adoration of him just fueled his feelings, giving him hope that one day, _someday,_ his Fordsie would love him back. It would be a very slim chance, of course, _because Bill knew he was unlovable_ because his Fordsie had a very science-focused mind, no time for romance at all.

Hope dies, though. It always fades and dies. Most times it crashes and burns, one sudden instance that rips away all the hope a person has and _crushes_ it, grinds it into a paste.

Bill wishes he crashed and burned. It'd hurt less. Far less.

Far less than watching the one man he'd ever loved go about his business, as he slowly realized he only wanted him for _answers._ In his little book, he mentioned nothing about his personality, or how much he liked him, _if_ he liked him. Bill couldn't complain, of course, his original plan for his Fordsie was to be a pawn. _But he knew he'd still do that, he HAD to, he wanted this for so long, he couldn't have his entire life's work be in vain, he had to succeed, he HAD to, to prove his family wrong, to prove that frilly pink know it all wrong, to prove EVERYBODY wrong..._

He couldn't complain when his heart broke, slowly, as he realized he loved Ford. Ford admired him. As a work partner, and as a work partner only. As a friend, too, but never a lover. He would never love Bill like Bill loved Ford. _You should have known from the beginning, you unlovable..._

He should have known. Why would Bill be the exception Ford made, the one being Ford would love?

It wasn't possible.

It wasn't possible.

Bill realized this, he realized early, but he _fought._ He fought the truth away with false hope and lies, but he knew. He _knew._ He would never have his Fordsie, but he _needed_ him.

He needed him.

 _To feel whole._

 _To feel important._

 _To feel loved._

 _To be happy._

 _To be worth something._

To have a companion.

He needed him, but he would never get him. Every second spent with him was pure heartache, seeing the one thing he _needed_ wanted, _right there,_ but unattainable. He loved him, so much. He continued to love him, despite the very real fact that _it didn't matter._ His Fordsie would never love him. _Why would anyone love a monster like me?_

Nevertheless, he continued. _I tried to move on._ He moved on.

 _I can't move on._ He didn't need Ford.

 _I need him._ He didn't need anyone.

 _Help me._ This did not affect him in any way what-so-ever.

 _It hurts._ Nobody cares. He moved on. He's Bill Cipher. He doesn't dwell on emotional issues, ever. I- _he_ moved on.

It didn't affect him at all.

~o~O~o~

Using his Fordsie was hard, _so_ hard, but he had to.

Admittedly, he _did_ go overboard with his tormenting, but, he told himself, he had to burn every bridge. _You're just doing it because you're a sadist._

His head was swirling, he was aware of what he was doing but he wasn't at the same time. _You wanted him to hurt._

He didn't want Ford to be hurt. _You hurt him, so he'd feel your pain. Admit it._

 _Never. I would NEVER._

 _You would, you know it. You never loved him; monsters CAN'T love._

 _I HAD TO!_

 _You didn't have to do anything._

 _I had to._

Bill had to.

He hurt the one person he ever loved so he could have power. The power he lusted after all his life.

He chased his love around the multiverse and back, for _power._

He couldn't stop. _I wanted to stop._

His Fordsie would never love him, never _like_ him again. _So what's the point?_

He chased power, because that was the only thing that could make him happy now. My Fordsie would've made me happy.

It was the only way.

 _It didn't have to be the only way._

It was _always_ the only way.

~o~O~o~

He won.

Bill Cipher _won._

He opened the rift. He had his power.

He proved Time Baby wrong, proved that frilly know it all wrong.

Yet, he wasn't happy.

He could he somewhat happy with his Fordsie at his side, albeit as a gold statue, but whenever he was forced to look at that panicked expression, he felt pangs of an emotion _guilt_ that he could not place.

He decided to treat his Fordsie, give him a little reward for being so amazing. He brought him to his personal room, and unfroze him, the first (and only) statue he unfroze. He even serenaded him, he wanted Ford to like him, to _join_ him. After all he did, he couldn't lose Ford.

But his Fordsie got so angry. Glaring at him and demanding to know why he was doing all this. Why treat him nicely but chain him up? Why the continued attempts to get him to join his gang? Why him? _WHY HIM?_

For once, Bill decided to tell the truth.

 _You know, I've always loved you, Fordsie,_ he said, hoping his Fordsie would understand.

He got even angrier _of course he did_ and glared at Bill, a soul-piercing glare that caused Bill to shrink back.

"You _loved_ me?" Ford repeated his words back at him, Bill taking a step back, surprised by the sheer amount of venom behind those words.

"Do you call everything you've DONE to me, to my _family,_ LOVE? _IS THAT HOW YOU SHOW YOUR_ _ **LOVE?"**_

And, at that moment, Bill Cipher felt small, so small. He wondered if he could just curl up on himself and shrink down until he was nothing, a non-entity, never having to deal with heartbreak and regret, painful regret, ever again.

He could hear Ford demanding an answer, not his Fordsie, _never_ his Fordsie, he never was and never will be. Just Stanford Pines, a betrayed man, betrayed by a being who secretly loved him more than anything, demanding an explanation.

An explanation he would never get, as at that moment, Bill left, murmuring out an excuse about duties, ignoring Ford's calls for him to come back. He _wanted_ to go back and beg forgiveness, launch himself into his arms and _BEG,_ but he would never, ever humiliate himself like that. The option did seem better once he considered that Ford would like him again if he did such a thing, but reality reminded him that no such thing would happen.

 _Reality._ Even in a weird-apocolypse, some things always stayed the same. And if he couldn't change the one aspect of reality that prevented him from getting happiness, then what was the point?

He _almost_ welcomed death, when it came. He begged, though, because of the part of him that wanted to continue on. Begged and pleaded to be spared, looking into the face of the man he loved- except it wasn't him. If he were to die like this, why not die with his Fordsie? At least his Fordsie would _stay_ his Fordsie. He didn't want his Fordsie to die, never. He never wanted him to get hurt _but I hurt him anyway._ He was the bad in his Fordsie's life, the monster his love needed saving from. His Fordsie didn't deserve to die to be rid of him.

He felt regret, _true_ regret, crushing him, suffocating him to death faster than the fire would burn him. He begged and pleaded for it to stop, for him to be spared, at least from the fire, please, _please._

His pleading didn't work, at all, and he reached out to the one man who could save him, as a last-ditch effort to appeal to pity.

Relying on others' pity was never a good idea.

~o~O~o~

The Axolotl- the frilly pink know it all himself- was smiling at Bill when be awoke, as friendly as ever. His words were lost on Bill- something about a second chance, not too surprising, the Axolotl took pity on most beings. _Even he wouldn't pity YOU._

But he heard talk of a second chance, faintly, it was hard to hear over the ringing and the sound of his own shaky breathing. A final warning to not mess up, and the scenery dissolved, to a familiar blue void-ish environment.

 _No,_ Bill thought, _not here, not NOW!_

His Fordsie was about to meet him for the very first time, _again,_ as per the Axolotl's generosity. He wouldn't meet the charming, optimistic, funny, charismatic Bill.

He would meet the lost, alone, terrified, traumatized Bill.

Ford didn't deserve to be subjected to this side of Bill, but he couldn't fake. Not so soon after _dying._ He wanted to hope that Ford wouldn't show up until he had time to compose himself, but his hopes were dashed before they even existed.

"Hello?" called an inquisitive, strong voice, and despite everything, Bill's heart swelled. "Where am I?"

The man himself came up behind Bill, and he turned to look. The curious, young man from what seemed like an eternity ago was staring at Bill with wonder, wonder which turned to concern once he noticed the being's trembling.

"Are you alright?" Ford asked, his concern alone making Bill feel better. "Could you tell me where I am?" he asked again, softer this time.

"The mindscape," he clarified. He noticed his Fordsie had that look, the look when he was committing something important to memory. He must be reminding himself to ask again later.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, placing a hand on Bill's back. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned into his hand, savoring its warmth, his body not letting him pull away and preserve some dignity. His trembling did not cease, but it slowed down, not nearly as bad as before. Ford's shoulders dropped and he breathed a little sigh of relief. _So caring, my Fordsie, if he knew what I was, he wouldn't do this._

 _I'm not going to be like that._

 _You can't be anything else._

 _All you know how to do is fake and lie and cheat and hurt._

 _It's all you're good for._

"Did I do something?"

 _It's all you'll ever be good for._

"Hello?"

Bill looked at Ford, his Fordsie, looking at him with... worry? Why was he worried? Why was he reaching towards him, stroking his face? Why was his hand wet now?

"You're crying," Ford said, noticing Bill's confused expression. "You didn't notice?"

Crying. Bill Cipher never cries. _I always cry._

He never cries in front of anyone. _I never cry in front of anyone._

But for now, he lets himself. He lets the person he loves more than anything pull him closer, lets him comfort him, lets him see him at his most vulnerable. He still didn't deserve to put up with this. He deserved the best introduction. But, Bill could try again the next night. He hoped.

His crying spell lasted only a few minutes, impressive for the recently dead and traumatized, but an embarrassment to the triangular being.

"Are you alright?" There was his Fordsie, concerned over the wellbeing of someone he's never met before (to his knowledge.)

"I'm _fine,_ Fordsie," Bill said, trying to slip back into that comfortable feeling of faking.

"How do you know my name?" A slight panic was in Ford's tone, and Bill turned all his attention onto him.

"Relax, Fordsie, I heard someone call you it!"

And relax he did, apparently too shocked to question _who_ and _how._

"Here, how 'bout I tell you _my_ name, so we're even?" Bill offered, stroking a cute pose.

"I was just about to ask it, as a matter of fact."

"William Cipher! But call me Bill! William's an old person name."

Ford snickered at that last part. "It kind of is," he agreed. Seeing that smile, hearing that laugh, made Bill happy. He was _happy._ Not faking would be hard. Giving up ultimate power would be hard.

But he'd do it. For his Fordsie.

"What are you...?" Ford asked, tentatively.

Bill froze, a million answers swirling through his mind.

 _A muse._

 _A god._

 _A friend._ _That's cheesy._

 _An otherworldly being._

"A dream demon," he said, truthfully. "Don't freak out over the 'demon' part, we don't all suck."

Ford nodded his head politely, obviously unsure what that even meant.

"Who cares about that?" Bill said, materializing a chessboard and some chairs. "Interdimensional chess?"

Ford smiled and sat down in one, Bill sitting in the other.

"Bill?" He asked, before he made a move.

"Mm?"

"Are we friends?"

There was a hopeful- _hopeful!-_ look in Ford's eyes, a real, true desire to be friends with Bill, the real Bill, no tricks, no faking, no promises to give him information beyond his understanding, just _Bill._ The being.

"Of course we are!" Bill replied, as if this was the most obvious question ever. Ford's relieved face made Bill happier than any sort of power did, Ford himself, just _existing_ made Bill happier than anything. He needed Ford, he wanted Ford, and Bill Cipher gets what he wants, and if he wanted to get what he wanted with no tricks whatsoever, he could. He should. It'd make him last. As a friend, and perhaps, in the future, a lover.

He just wondered why he needed a second chance to realize it.

~o~O~o~

 _This is my first GF fic aaand I got super experimental lmao... Anyway fav+review n that fun stuff if u wanna, I've been considering expanding on this and making it into a full story, so tell me if you wanna see that or not_


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